


I, Everett

by Jon_and_Tonic



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Current Events, Drunkenness, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Bonding, Fluff, Politics, Satire, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jon_and_Tonic/pseuds/Jon_and_Tonic
Summary: A few months after I remote-pilot a Wakandan fighter jet to help my BFF T'Challa, I'm appointed CIA Director. Current President Raymond Crunk declares himself President-for-Life not long afterwards. One day, I am called away from an urgent Pentagon briefing to meet with him. This is a recounting of events including and following one of the worst days of my life, in which Valerie dumps me. Chaos ensues...





	I, Everett

I looked at the satellite photos of the North Korean weapons depot. It looked like it was true. The rat bastard was gearing up for a missile launch. We would need to do something fast. Time to talk to the Pentagon. My hand reached for the phone when the intercom beeped. “Mr. Ross, I’ve got Irina Crunk on the line. She says it’s urgent,” said my assistant Jodi.

“OK, thanks, Jodi. I’ll take it.” I punched the button to pick up the holding line. “Everett Ross,” I said.

“Hello, Mr. Ross, can you come to the Oval Office immediately?”

“I have a big, steaming pile of urgent intel on the North Koreans on my desk, and I need to notify the Pentagon immediately. Can it wait, or can the Deputy Director handle it?” I heard the sound of muffled garbled voices, as if Irina was holding her hand over the receiver and talking to someone.

“No, he says it can’t wait, and it has to be you.”

“Fine. I’ll be there by four.” Traffic in Langley wouldn’t be too bad yet, and I anticipated I could make the drive in half an hour max. I briefed the Deputy Director and headed out the door, wondering what could be more important than the North Koreans possibly launching a missile.

I approached the Oval Office, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. At first glance, President-For-Life Raymond Crunk appeared to be hard at work for a change, marking up a document. As I got closer to the massive gold-plated mahogany desk, I saw instead that he was coloring in a military-themed coloring book. “Irina, can you get me another blue marker? This one’s out of ink.” 

The tall bleached blonde took the writing implement from the Toddler-in-Chief and examined it. “Daddy, that’s a colored pencil. You just need to sharpen it, and it will be as good as new. See?” She stuck the pencil into an electric pencil sharpener on the desk. Jesus, what a dumb cluck, I thought.

“Oh! Look at that. It’s sharp again.” He poked it against the pad of his finger. “Owie.” Satisfied, he then started coloring again.

I felt a migraine coming on and tried this acupressure thing I’d read about in some magazine in my dentist’s waiting room, squeezing the bridge of nose between my fingers. I had a lot on my plate and these briefings with the President always lasted way longer than necessary without actually accomplishing anything. “Excuse me, I’m here to meet with the President. I’m Everett Ross, CIA.” Irina looked up, then tapped on a desktop calendar with a polished fingernail.

“Daddy, Everett Ross is here,” she said in her father’s ear.

“Who’s that?” 

“Um, he’s with the CIA. He’s the Director.” She looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. “Yes. I’ll go get Jordan.”

The Orange Menace looked up at me, eyes squinted and mouth clenched into an anus-like pucker. “Oh good, you’re here. Everest Ross, isn’t it?”

I gave the President a tight-lipped smile. “Actually, it’s Everett, with two T’s. Everett Ross, CIA Director.”

“I knew that because I’m smart. I’m way smarter than you. I called you Everest because you’re so tall like the mountain, haha, that’s a joke because you’re actually very short, get it? I tell the best jokes. I’m funnier and I’m taller than you. I’m the tallest and funniest President in history. Everybody knows that. Everest, would you like a Diet Coke?”

I smiled again. I got pulled away from a Pentagon briefing for this? Fortunately my poker face was so good it was practically weaponized. I’d been banned from several poker games in the D.C. area after cleaning out most of the guys who attended them. “No, thank you, Mr. President. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” 

He looked upward, pursing his lips. “Jordan? Can you give Everest the details?”

Jordan came forward wringing his waxy white hands. This guy made Edward Cullen look positively swarthy. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the Wakandans hold over 99% of the world’s vibranium. It’s the rarest metal on earth, and quite valuable.”

I gave him a thin smile. “So I’ve heard.”

“Bo-o-o-ring. This meeting is so boring,” said the Waste-of-Oxygen-in-Chief. “I’m going to color some more.”

The Chief of Staff James Kearney leaned forward. “We understand that the King of Wakanda holds you in highest regard.”

Here I had to be very careful. “King T’Challa trusts me to a certain extent,” I said. “We’ve rubbed shoulders in the international arena before.”

Jordan gave me a greasy smile. Smarmy douchebag. I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could throw him, and ever since Natalie McPhail broke my right arm, I’d been useless at throwing. “We were hoping that you could convince T’Challa that it’s in his best interests to open Wakanda’s borders to foreign mining interests.”

I smiled. “Look, Mr. Kutner, I don’t know what kind of inducement anyone could offer that would make T’Challa want to allow foreign mining operations. Wakanda is already very wealthy and doesn’t need anyone coming in and polluting their pristine environment and defiling their sacred lands.”

Kearney gave me a sharklike look. “We’re talking more along the lines of negative reinforcement. It would be a shame if something were to happen to someone in the Royal Family, wouldn’t it?”

My mouth went dry. They were asking me to shit on the Constitution, the document I had sworn under oath to uphold and protect, undermine national security, and ransom, possibly even kill, trusted friends, all for the benefit of a loud, orange, overstuffed, sack of shit, an escapee from Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum, and Senior White House Aide Barbie. I gave my best thoughtful pause and nodded. “Very well. I think maybe if I talk to him, then perhaps King T’Challa will be able to see the light of reason.”

“Good,” said Jordan, dimples forming on his translucent face. “We’d like to begin mining by January of next year.” 

President Evil looked up from his coloring book. “I’m the best businessman in the world. If I had all the vibranium in the world, everyone would be rich,” said the Idiot-in-Chief. He held up the coloring book. “See? I colored a fighter jet. It’s the F-16. Everybody knows it’s the best and fastest fighter jet in the world.”

Irina gave me a helpless look, then turned back to her father. “Daddy, do you want me to order some KFC?”

“Yes, Irina. Everest, do you want some KFC?”

I tried to project warmth and gratitude through my smile. It was actually quite kind of him to offer me dinner, but damn it, why couldn’t the idiot get my name right? “That’s very good of you, sir, but no, thank you. I have dinner plans already.” I had originally planned to meet Val for dinner tonight, and she’d be rightly pissed off at the cancellation with such short notice. Besides, I had just lost what little appetite I’d had to begin with. 

“Cancel your dinner plans, because you’re going to be here very late. You know a lot about WaKANDAH, and we need to decide how to take the vibranium. You will be a very rich man if you help me with this and we succeed.”

Irina looked horrified. “Daddy!”

I gave my warmest, most pleasant smile. “Sounds enticing. I’d love to hear more. And I’m a breast man myself.” 

Mango Mussolini looked up from his coloring book. “Haha, Everest likes breasts. I like breasts too. I like this guy,” he said. “Everest, do you like to golf?”

“It’s been a while, but I’ve been known to play every now and then.”

“You should come to my golf club some time. We’ll golf. It will be great.”

“Sounds great,” I said with enthusiasm I didn’t feel. I would rather have a root canal without anaesthetic than golf with that bloviating pusbag. “Could you excuse for a moment, Mr. President? I’d like to call my friend and let her know we won’t be having dinner together tonight.”

I called Valerie. “Val, hey, it’s Everett.”

“What’s up, Ev? Everything OK?”

“I wish. I’m going to have to cancel tonight. I’m so sorry.”

“OK.” I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know it wasn’t OK in the slightest. 

“Look, I’m in the Oval Office right now. I need to work late. I’ll make it up to you.”

She sighed. “If you’re really in the Oval Office, then put the President on.”

“Hold on a minute.” I turned to Irina. “Irina, do you think your father would be willing to explain why I'm canceling my dinner plans?”

Irina gave me the deer in the headlights look. “Uh...sure, OK. Hold on a minute.” She went to Twitler and put a hand on his shoulder. “Daddy? Can you talk to Mr. Ross’ friend on the phone and tell her he won’t be able to meet her tonight for dinner?”

I handed the phone to Irina, who passed it to her father.

“This is President Crunk. Who’s this? Allie? Oh, hi, Mallory, this is the President. Everest has a meeting with me, that’s why he can’t have dinner with you. It’s about WaKANDAH. We need to take all of their-”

“Daddy, no!” Irina knocked the phone out of his hand, then picked it up and looked at it. “Looks like you’ll have to call her back. Sorry about that.”

I went back into the hall and called Valerie again. “Val, I’m really sorry. Can we go out on Friday instead?”

She sounded angry, on the edge of tears. “And have you cancel on me again on Friday? Hell no. Forget it, Everett. I’ve had enough. If you really wanted to be with me, you wouldn’t cancel on me all the time.”

“I am Director of the CIA. There are some responsibilities that go with the position.”

“That may be true, but I’m always last in your list of priorities.” she sighed. “You’re probably a good guy, and I’m sure there’s a woman out there who will be happy with what little time you have to give her, but it sure isn’t me.”

“Valerie, wait.”

“I have been waiting, and I’m done with it. I’m done with you. Goodbye, Everett.. Have a nice life.” A click on the other end told me I was truly alone. I felt my eyes sting, but blinked back the tears. I breathed in and out deeply to try to dissipate the sick, hurt feeling in my stomach, and after a couple of minutes I was able to compose myself. The heartache would have to wait. There was work to be done. I went back into the Oval Office.

“OK,” I said, hoping I sounded as businesslike as usual, “Let’s talk about Wakanda. What exactly did you have in mind?”

Jordan spoke again. “We want exclusive mining rights for the vibranium in Wakanda.”

“If T’Challa won’t cooperate, maybe there will be a new regime that will.” Kearney laughed. “Mr. Ross, I feel like suggestions like this should be coming from you. Maybe I should be CIA Director.”

I laughed. Smug asshole. “Mr. Kearney, my predecessor had more interventionist tendencies, whereas I believe in maintaining relationships with existing rulers and forming alliances where possible. When you get right down to it, everyone wants something from the Americans, and you can get most to play ball. Removing King T’Challa should be our last resort.”

“But we shouldn’t rule it out entirely.”

“Of course not. Unlike you, I am concerned about the repercussions of international sentiment. Once it gets out that we have exclusive rights to mine vibranium, it won’t take a genius to figure out what happened to T’Challa.”

“So you’re saying it doesn’t matter whether or not we remove T’Challa, international sentiment will suffer just the same.”

“Not at all. T’Challa is much loved by his people and held in high regard internationally for being one of the cooler heads. He’s compassionate, reasonable, and intelligent. To remove him would seriously compromise our relationships with our allies.”

Kearney smiled. “That’s always a risk, no matter what we do. And there’s always the possibility of forming new alliances.”

“You would have us form alliances with the likes of Putin, Kim Jong Un, and Assad at the expense of our relationships with France, Great Britain, Canada, and Germany?”

He smiled. “I think you’d be surprised at how advantageous such arrangements could be. And I’m not proposing that we destroy our existing alliances, I’m just saying we shouldn’t rule out new alliances with leaders we have traditionally shunned.”

I waited until I was outside to vent. “Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, jumpin’ Jesus-jacked-up-on-steroids Christ, motherfucker,” I said. I got in my car and slumped against the steering wheel. This had been the mother of shitty days. My President wanted me to help plan a strike against one of my best friends, and my girlfriend of three years had dumped me. If I had the time, I could have written a decent blues song about it - the CIA Director Blues. I felt like crying but I had work to do. There would be time for tears later.


End file.
